I began to tremble.
"Do not be afraid, Slave," he said to me.
"Master!" I pleaded.
"I did not give you permission to speak," he said.
I was silent.
Again I took the bowl from the fire. It was now not comfortable to hold the bowl, but it was not painful to do so. I poured the wine from the small copper bowl into the black, red-trimmed wine crater, placing the small bowl in a rack to one side of the fire. I swirled, slowly, the wine in the wine crater. I saw my reflection in the redness, the blondness of my hair, dark in the wine, and the collar, with its bells, about my throat.
I now, in the fashion of the slave girl of Treve, held the wine crater against my right cheek. I could feel the warmth of the wine through the side of the crater.
"Is it ready? he asked.
A master of Treve does not care to be told that his girl thinks it is. He wished t be told Yes or No.
"Yes," I whispered.
I did not know how he cared for his wine, for some men of Treve wish it warm, others almost hot. I did not know how he wished it. What if it were not as he wished it!
"Serve me wine," he said.
I, carrying the wine crater, rose to my feet and approached him. I then knelt before him, with a rustle of slave bells, in the position of the pleasure slave. I put my head down and, with both hands, extending my arms to him, held forth the wine crater. "I offer you wine, Master, I said.
He took the wine and I watched, in terror. He sipped it, and smiled. I nearly fainted. I would not be beaten.
I knelt there, while he, at his leisure, drank the wine.
When he had almost finished, he beckoned me to him, and I went to kneel at his side. He put his hand in my hair and held my head back. "Open your mouth," he said.
I did so, and he, spilling some from the broad rim of the crater, I feeling it on my chin, and throat, as it trickled under the collar, and body, poured the remainder of the wine down my throat. It was bitter from the dregs in the bottom of the cup, and, to my taste, scalding. I, my eyes closed, my head held painfully back, throat burning, swallowed it. When I had finished the wine he thrust the wine crater into my hands. "Run, El-in-or," he said, "put it back, and return to me." I ran to the side of the tent and put back the wine crater, and fled back to his side.
"Stand," he said.
I did so, unsteadily.
My head swirled. Suddenly, in my body, like a drum, I felt the hot wine. He had made me run that I might feel it even the sooner.
I looked at him, unsteadily, angrily.
"I hate you!" I cried. Then I was terrified that I had uttered this. It was the wine.
He did not seem angry, but sat there, regarding me.
I was emboldened.
I was suddenly conscious of the earrings in my ears. He was looked at them. "I hate you!" I cried again.
He said nothing.
"You captured me!" I wept. "You put me in a collar!" I wept. I seized the collar and tried to pull it from my throat. It remained inflexibly fastened on me, marking me his slave. There had been only the jangle of bells Ute had tied to the steel.
He said nothing.
"You branded me!" I cried. "You whipped me, and put me in the slave box!" He did not deign to speak to me.
"You do not understand," I cried. "I am not even of this world. I am not one of your Gorean women, with whom you may do as you please. I am not a servile thing! I am not a piece of property! I am not a pretty animal that you can buy and sell! I am Elinor Brinton. I am of the planet Earth! I belong in New York City! I live on Park Avenue, in a great building! I am rich! I am educated! On my world I am an important person! I am of Earth, of Earth! You cannot treat me as a simple slave!" Then I put my head in my hands. What could he, an ignorant barbarian warrior, know of such things. He must think me mad. I wept. Then, to my terror, I realized he was standing beside me. He was so large. I felt so small, and weak.
"I am of the warriors," he told me, "which is a high caste. I have been educated in the second knowledge, so I know of your world. Your accent marked you as barbarian."
I looked up at him.
"I know you are of the world which you call Earth," he said.
I regarded him, dumbfounded.
"The women of Earth," he said, "are worthy only to be the slaves of the men of Gor."
His hands were on my arms. I looked up at him, in terror.
"You are my slave," he said.
I was speechless.
Suddenly he threw me from him, violently I was hurled stumbling and falling to the rugs. I looked up at him from the rugs, terrified.
"You," he said,wear on your thigh the brand of a liar. You wear on your thigh the brand of a thief. You wear on your thigh the brand of a traitress!" "Please!" I wept.
"Pierced-eared girl!" he said, scornfully.
My hands, inadvertently, went to the rings in my ears. There were tears in my eyes.
To my terror I saw him unroll heavy furs and cast them scornfully over the rugs near the small fire.
Imperiously he pointed to them.
"Please!" I wept.
His finger inexorably indicated the furs.
I rose to my feet and, with a rustle of slave bells, approached him. I felt his hands on my arms. "You come from a world," he said, "in which women are the natural slaves of such men as those of Gor."
I could not look at him.
"And you are a liar," he said, "and a thief, and a traitress."
I then felt his face near mine.
"Do you know the perfume you wear?" he asked.
I shook my head.
"It is the perfume of a female slave," he said.
I put down my head.
I felt his hand on my head, lifting it. He was regarding the earrings. I put down my head again.
"Pierced-ear girl," he said.
I could not speak, but only tremble.
I then felt, to my dismay, his hand tear the ribbon of white silk from my collar. He threw it aside.
"No!" I begged him "You will be treated as what you are," he said, "as the lowest and miserable slave on Gor."
I dared not look into the eyes of my master.
"Lift your head, Girl," he said.
I heard the bells on my collar move as I did as I was commanded.
I looked into his eyes, and then, helplessly, thrust down my head. My entire body began to tremble, uncontrollably.
Never had I seen such eyes, terrible and dark, keen, those of a warrior. I stood before him, alone with him in his tent, at his mercy. My head was down. I felt small and helpless.
Then he took me in his arms.
With a jangle of slave bells and a cry of anguish I was forced back on the furs.
16 I Am Chained Beneath the Moons of Gor
"Let her be chained under the moons of Gor," had said Verna.
Rask of Treve had laughed.
I pulled at the chain on my left ankle. It was fastened in the heavy ring, in the heavy block of stone, set deep in the small, grassy knoll. I had seen this small hillock, with its ring, in my exploration of the camp. It was in an isolated portion of the camp. I was alone on the hillock, chained near its rounded summit. I could see, some dozens of yards away, the back of tents. I could see the points of the double palisade. The moons had not yet risen. I was angry. I sat in the grass. I was naked. I lifted my ankle and felt the heavy chain on it. How furious I was!
After my work for the day had been finished, I had hoped, breathlessly, vulnerably, that I might be again summoned to the tent of Rask of Treve. I had done my work well, and when I had finished early I had helped the other girls. I recalled that I had sung much during the day, and had been happy in my work. I had laughed much, too, and for the first time in weeks had eagerly conversed and sported, insisting that I be permitted to do so, with my sisters in bondage. Elinor Brinton, the Gorean slave girl, was now different than she had been. The other girls sensed this and, pleased, accepted me among them, as another mere slave, neither better nor worse than they themselves. When Ute and I had been alone I had fallen before her, begging her forgiveness with tears for how I had treated her so long before. She had smiled, and lifted me to my feet. There had been tears in her eyes. "Hurry to your work, Slave," she had said. She had then kissed me. I sprang to my feet and ran to my work, overcome with affection for her. She had forgiven me! I loved her! Ute, only of the leather workers, was the kindest, most generous, most loving girl I had ever known. How I hated myself for having once hurt her. Inge and Rena, I sensed, regarded me in a new fashion. "Slave!" they had said to me. And I had said to them, "Yesa€”Slave!" and kissed them. I had then sped away. They envied me. I pitied them in my way, for they were mere ignorant girls, white-silk girls. I was red silk! I jerked at my chained ankle, furious.